It's not me
by Emilx311
Summary: No matter how hard he tries, not how much he loves no one ever seems to notice.


Merlin sighed as he lowered himself unto the small cot in his rooms in Gaius' chambers. He blinked a few times; trying to get the tears out of his eyes. It was ridiculous he knew, what was the point of getting upset over something that he knew would never be his to begin with? He'd know from the start that it was not to be…so why did having that confirmed hurt so much for him. It was nothing he knew, nothing to be getting worked up about, but somehow he couldn't help it. He wondered if it was one of those destiny things that the great-bloody-dragon was always going on about, after all the pattern had repeated itself often enough to be just that…..a pattern.

Lancelot had been the first. He'd felt the spark from the moment he'd laid eyes on the man, though that was only for a few seconds before the griffin had captured all of his attention. The battle itself was a blur, and really the only thing Merlin could remember clearly from that day was gazing into Lancelot's beautiful and thankful eyes while his heart tried to hammer its way out of his chest. He thought he'd managed to play it off pretty well, hiding his blooming crush under a friendly smile and an offer of a place to stay.

Really, looking back it was probably bloody obvious to everyone what was going on. I mean, as much as he liked the guy he wouldn't have gone so out of his way for just anybody. He gave him his bed (how he wished that they were in it together) and he even lied to Arthur's face in order to help him become a knight; so that he could stay at the castle with Merlin and maybe after they became better friends he would see all Merlin had done and fal-that's where it all fell apart. Not only did Arthur see though his stupid stupid lies, but Lancelot met Gwen.

Now Merlin had nothing against Gwen personally, in fact he even quite liked her. No the problem was not with her, or rather it did not lie in who she was. Gwen was a kind girl, genuinely caring and sweet in a way that few others were. He could count on Gwen to always be there when he needed her, and in fact had spent hours in her company ranting about prats, and his chores, and how lonely he was. No, the problem was not in Gwen herself, but in the way everyone reacted to Gwen. See Gwen was the exact opposite of Merlin. She was curve where he was sticky, she was giggly and open where he would crack a small mysterious smile. She bounced where he tripped, she shown where he hid and well everyone noticed her. Where he could slip around with barely a glance from anyone she was constantly greeted and noticed. In fact the route of the problem was that it seemed that the very people Merlin wanted to notice him (Yes in _that _way) ended up noticing Gwen.

He bowed to her with Lance, anyone could see the way her eyes lit up when talking about him so without saying a word for anyone he withdrew. He stopped with the mindless favours, with the glances, and with the small shy touches he'd been giving. He just stopped, and Lance; regal honourable Lance never even noticed that anything had changed. It hurt, certainly it did; but he reasoned, friends were more important than a lover. So he used one of the afternoons where Arthur had ordered him to muck out the stable to cry his eyes out for what could have been, and what he had wanted and then he thrust the feelings to the back of his mind and heart and focused on being happy for them. It worked.

Life went on, and as it often does it brought with it a second chance in the form of Gwaine. Gwaine was everything Lance was not. Silly, drunk, joking, flirty. Perhaps it was this opposition that drew Merlin in the first place. Gwaine seemed to hit on anything that moved, so surely…..surely he would have to notice Merlin somehow if even for a night (Because Merlin would live with just a night, a night of feeling completely noticed and LOVED or even a kiss or a moment). But, because he was the cursed warlock servant of the once and future and things could never, not even for an instance go his way he somehow became the one person Gwaine would absolutely not flirt with.

When he got up the courage to ask Gwaine why Merlin just smiled a sad ironic smile upon hearing that "of course I don't flirt with you, you're friendship just matters too much to me!" He mumbled something about Arthur and chores and ran, and ran, and ran as far as he could before the tears started to fall and he collapsed into a hidden corner to cry away yet another broken heart.

Again the years passed, they came and went as did fairies and magic spells, and near death experiences that seemed almost mundane in Camelot. With them came others, so so many others. Fine, kind men all of them, and all of them great _friends_ with Merlin. It was always the same story, they just didn't want to be more. So here Merlin was, the luckiest guy on earth according to some, so close to all those handsome kind knights! Merlin himself concluded he had to have the absolute worst luck ever as yes, he was surrounded by all these great guys, and none of them would spare him so much as a second glance!

He suppose it was inevitable when he eventually fell for Arthur. His heart was a weak fickle thing, seemingly determined to always be in love, and so always be hurt. Which is how he had ended up here. He supposed that one might consider it ironic that once again it was Gwen who had caught the prince's eye. After all that time trying to make Arthur laugh, willing to help him with even the smallest thing, desperately trying to get closer to the prince it's Gwen the prince decides to befriend. Merlin's not mad, he's too tired to be mad. Tired of the pain, of the tears, and of the heartache. Tired of hiding his feeling from everyone, tiered of no one realizing how much he craved…_needed_ to be loved.

Was it too much to ask, he wondered, for even one night. One night of someone looking _at_ him, instead of through him as though he was just a regular part of the scenery. One night of holding, and of being held. One night of sweet nothings, that are so so much more than nothing being whispered into his ear, but that is not to be. So the night that Merlin finds himself picking up his courage to give the prince the gift he'd bought him with his scarce coin as a congratulations for winning the latest tournament and his left standing with his arm outstretched watching Arthur walk away from him to _her_ something inside him breaks.

So he turns, letting the package fall and walks back to his room. It really was pointless, he supposes, to even hope. It's not him that they want, it never is. He knows this, the way he knows the sky is blue and the sun will rise in the morning. Why he even bothers is the mystery that he never could solve, and so once again he feels the cold slimy feeling of tears dripping down his face and he feels disgust because he knew this would happen, and he knew that he's only end up alone, and and. He sighs once more. And he knew that something deep inside him would never allow him to give up, something would keep pushing him towards that dream of sweet nothings and kind words, no matter how much he may end up hurt in the process.


End file.
